Page 1 of Mr. Darcy’s Honor (Darcy and Elizabeth Forever: Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

CHAPTER ONE

A TONGUE TOO QUICK

Elizabeth Bennet found it hard to keep a secret.

Especially one as big as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy asking her to marry him in the most arrogant and disdainful manner.

So it was one fine spring morning, while walking home from Easter service, that she spotted her friend, Mr. Wickham, a charming and most lively gentleman, always eager for a jest, and smart as ever in his regimentals.

Mr. Wickham’s face lit with pleasure as he fell into step beside her. “How wonderful to encounter you again, Miss Elizabeth. Six weeks is far too long for our little society to be deprived of such agreeable company.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed at the compliment, delivered with just the right note of friendly gallantry. “You flatter me, Mr. Wickham, though I am very glad to be home. I trust you have been well?”

“Tolerably so. I confess, I have missed the pleasure of such stimulating discourse as only you can provide.” His blue eyes twinkled with interest. “Pray, how did you find your visit to Kent? I hope Mrs. Collins is in good health and spirits.”

“Poor Charlotte is well enough, though I fear her situation grows more trying by the day. Mr. Collins remains as ridiculous as ever, spouting endless sermons about propriety and gratitude.” Elizabeth paused, savoring the moment.

“But Mr. Wickham, you will never guess the most extraordinary, nay, the most absurd thing that occurred during my visit.”

He leaned forward with such interest that he nearly missed his footing as they turned onto Meryton’s busy high street.

“My dear Miss Elizabeth, what could possibly have occurred in the hallowed halls of Hunsford Parsonage to merit such excitement?”

“It is a most amusing tale. You must promise not to laugh too heartily.”

Upon Wickham’s solemn promise to keep a stern demeanor, Elizabeth said, “A certain gentleman proposed to me in a most pompous and odious manner.”

“A proposal? My dear Miss Elizabeth, you have been keeping secrets.” His voice dropped to a confidential tone as they lagged behind the other churchgoers streaming toward home. “Pray tell, which fortunate gentleman has lost his heart to you?”

“Fortunate?” Elizabeth laughed, the sound bright and sharp in the spring air. “I think not. It was none other than the great Mr. Darcy himself.”

Wickham stopped abruptly, wheeling to face her. “Darcy proposed to you? Now this is a tale worth hearing.”

“I could scarcely believe it myself,” Elizabeth continued, warmed by Wickham’s attention. “He appeared at my cousin’s parsonage, paced about like a man possessed, and then delivered the most insulting proposal imaginable.”

“Insulting?” Wickham’s brow furrowed as they resumed walking. “Even in matters of the heart, it seems Darcy cannot help but give offense.”

“Indeed! You would have been as appalled as I at his presumption. He began by informing me of his struggles—his very great struggles—against falling in love with someone so decidedly beneath his station.”

“Beneath his station?” Wickham’s voice carried a note of outrage that warmed Elizabeth’s heart. “How dare he suggest such a thing?”

“Oh, but it gets worse.” Elizabeth reveled in Wickham’s indignation on her behalf.

“He spoke of my family’s unfortunate connections, the impropriety of my younger sisters, and the regrettable circumstances of my mother’s relations.

He made it quite clear that accepting me would be a tremendous sacrifice to his better judgment. ”

Wickham’s jaw tightened in a most gratifying manner. “The arrogance of the man knows no bounds. Pray, continue. I am eager to hear how you responded to such unconscionable behavior.”

“I refused him, of course!” Elizabeth’s chin lifted. “I told him he was the last man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

“Did you really?” Wickham’s eyes gleamed with admiration. “I would have given a month’s salary to witness Darcy’s face. I imagine he is unaccustomed to rejection. The shock must have been considerable.”

“His astonishment was quite gratifying,” Elizabeth admitted. “Though he recovered quickly enough to accuse me of unjust prejudice against him.”

“Prejudice?” Wickham stepped closer, his voice dropping further with genuine concern. “And what reasons did you give for your refusal?”

“I laid everything before him—his treatment of you, his cruel separation of my sister Jane from Mr. Bingley, and his insufferable pride.” Elizabeth’s voice heated with renewed indignation. “I spoke plainly of his arrogance and his selfish disdain for the feelings of others.”

“You mentioned me?” Wickham touched her arm lightly, his face filled with tender concern. “I hope my unfortunate history with Darcy did not cause you additional distress.”

Elizabeth felt a flutter at his gentle touch, so different from Darcy’s stiff manner. “I could hardly remain silent when faced with such hypocrisy. I told him I knew all about his shameful treatment of you—how he denied you the living your godfather intended.”

Wickham’s expression grew pained, but his eyes shone with gratitude.

“Your kind heart does you credit, Miss Elizabeth. To think you would champion someone so far beneath Darcy’s notice…

” He paused, seeming to struggle with emotion.

“You cannot know how grievous it was to lose not only my promised future but also the man who had been like a father to me. Darcy and I were raised as brothers, you know. His father treated me as his own son, yet when he died, Darcy cast me aside without a thought for our shared childhood or his father’s wishes. ”

“How perfectly dreadful,” Elizabeth said, her tender heart moved by his obvious pain. “That you should suffer such cruelty from someone who knew you so intimately makes his behavior all the more reprehensible.”

The sound of approaching voices interrupted their intimate conversation, and Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder to see her younger sisters hurrying to catch up, their Easter bonnets bobbing with each quickened step.

“Lizzy,” Lydia called out breathlessly. “We have been watching you and Mr. Wickham deep in conversation for ages. What are you being so secretive about?”

“Indeed,” Kitty added, reaching them with a flutter of ribbons and lace. “You both looked so serious, we thought perhaps you were planning to elope.”

“Kitty!” Elizabeth laughed, though her cheeks flushed. “What a ridiculous notion.”

“Not so ridiculous,” Lydia said with a wicked grin, batting her eyelashes at Wickham. “Mr. Wickham is certainly handsome enough for an elopement. Pray, what has captured your attention so completely that you forgot about your poor sisters?”

Wickham bowed gallantly to both girls. “Miss Lydia, Miss Catherine, you look charming as always. Your sister was merely telling me of her adventures in Kent.”

“Adventures?” Lydia’s eyes lit with keen interest. “How deliciously mysterious. Do tell us everything, Lizzy.”

While Elizabeth thought of how she could respond, her mother and their aunt Phillips rushed over, all aflutter with their parasols and quite out of breath.

“Girls! Girls, what is this gathering about?” Mrs. Bennet panted, pressing one hand to her heaving bosom. “I could hear Lydia’s voice from halfway down the lane.”

“Oh, Mama,” Lydia laughed breathlessly, “we were just teasing Lizzy about eloping with Mr. Wickham!”

“Eloping?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose to a dangerous pitch.

Wickham chuckled indulgently. “Miss Lydia flatters me, but why would Miss Elizabeth consider such a thing when she has already secured a proposal from Mr. Darcy?”

All eyes turned expectantly to Elizabeth, trapped by their eager faces. She glanced helplessly at Wickham, who offered her an encouraging smile.

“It is true,” Elizabeth said reluctantly. “Mr. Darcy made me an offer of marriage.”

The effect was instantaneous and overwhelming. Lydia’s squeal of excitement, Kitty’s gasp of amazement, Mrs. Bennet’s cry of joy, and Mrs. Phillips’ exclamations of “Good heavens!” created such a hubbub that several passersby stopped to stare.

“Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose to a pitch that surely carried across three counties. “Ten thousand a year! Oh, what happiness! What joy!”

“But Mama,” Elizabeth said firmly, “I refused him.”

The words fell into sudden and absolute silence. Even the birds seemed to pause their chirping as both her mother and aunt stared at her with expressions of perfect stupefaction.

“Refused him?” Mrs. Bennet clutched dramatically at her chest. “Oh! I cannot believe it! You refused Mr. Darcy of Pemberley? Have you lost your senses?”

“You have always said you disliked him,” Elizabeth reminded her mother. “You called him a disagreeable, horrid man who thought himself above his company.”

“That was before he offered for you!” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “Oh, to think—my daughter, mistress of Pemberley! All lost because of your stubborn pride!”

“TEN THOUSAND A YEAR LOST!!!” Mrs. Phillips screeched, causing a nearby horse to shy nervously.

“His proposal was most insulting, Mama,” Elizabeth insisted. “He spoke of our family with disdain.

“Disdain?” Mrs. Bennet’s distress transformed instantly to outrage. “What did he say? What exactly did he say about our family?”

Elizabeth hesitated, suddenly reluctant to repeat Darcy’s words in such public company.

“Come now, Elizabeth,” Wickham prompted gently. “Your family represents the finest qualities of English country gentry. Darcy’s inability to see that speaks to his own limitations, not yours. Any man of sense would consider an alliance with the Bennets a privilege.”

Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude at his spirited defense.

“But ten thousand a year, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet moaned, her indignation warring with regret. “And Pemberley! They say it has thirty-six fireplaces!”